Sunday, December 16, 2018

A New Dope Part 2 of 8


Plucky Fluke Flyswatter marched into the shadow of the giant big-ass ponderous smurfmobile called the Sand Cow and began looking over the long line of misfit robots for sale.

Off to the side RBC was wheeling along in the sand with CIBC riding him, flopped over his big domed head like a sack of potatoes while CIBC’s detached golden feet sat in the sand some yards away.

“What can this one do?” Fluke asked the space smurf, pointing to a vacuum cleaner/marketing exec model who resembled RBC except with a red stripe instead of a blue stripe. Plucky Fluke frankly preferred blue. Also he was an ass man.

“It can count to a million backwards and mix drinks,” squeaked the little blue smurf in the hooded purple cloak.

“That sounds fun but not very helpful,” said Fluke. “What about that cute gay gold one there riding around on the vacuum cleaner?”

“Hey!” squealed the smurf, suddenly alerted to the robots’ hi-jinks. “What are you two doing!”

“Just practicing!” said CIBC.

“Practicing what?” said Fluke. “What do they do?”

“The gold one can speak up to ten thousand and seven languages all at once,” squeaked the smurf.

“And I can also plant ice cubes!” added CIBC as he climbed off of his mechanical friend and began re-inserting his feet into his ankles.

“I’ll take that one,” said Fluke. He handed over some space dollars.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said CIBC, “That RB unit friend of mine has a built in ice-cube maker.” He pointed at RBC.

“Okay,” said Flyswatter. “I’ll take that one too. He smells like crack though.”

RBC whistled and burped and rocked back and forth in excitement.

Flyswatter rustled the robots into his floaty sand boat and they were off to the water farm.

MEANWHILE IN THE BOWELS OF A GIANT BOWLING BALL WHICH FLOATED IN SPACE… The Princess Louise was being locked into a windowless detention pod by a pair of stormpoopers under the supervision of the Kepi-hatted Sargent Goosestep.

“You won’t get away with this, you shameless hoods,” spat the princess. “The Council of Good Guys will not look kindly upon your busting up an innocent diplomatic mission.”

“Hoods?” mouthed Sgt. Goosestep. “Why, you injure me! Nobody roughed up any diplomatic missions. They merely brought known terrorist spies into custody who did STEAL THE SACRED BOWLING BALL ARCHITECTURAL PLANS! INNOCENT DIPLOMATIC MISSION MY ARSE!” Goosestep then calmed himself down. He shook his head sadly. “Hoods, my arse.”

“Speaking of hoods, sir,” said Gus the Stormpooper, known officially as Stormpooper #10343.

“What the hell do you want, you pig-ignorant plebeian white pawn?” spat Goosestep.

“The hood sir.” Gus nodded toward the pod door. The Sargent finally turned his head and saw that indeed another pair of soldiers had arrived with the special hood. An enormous floating helmet with an array of ominous pins and needles emerging from it.

“Ah yes,” said Goosestep. “The Helm of Persuasion. Methinks princess that you will now divulge the secret location of your rebel base!”

Princess Louise shrank back in horror.

MEANWHILE BACK AT THE RANCH… Fluke Flyswatter arrived with the new robots crammed in the back of his Skyrider Sand Boat and immediately spied the smoke and ruins which used to be his aunt and uncle’s farm. “No!” he cried. “No!”

He threw the tiny ship into hoverpark and leapt out. He raced toward the sand igloo where two humanoid shapes lay on the ground dark, twisted and smoking. “No!” he cried again. “I forgot I set them on fire when they said I couldn’t ever leave them! Oh that was so stupid of me. I thought it was all just a bad dream!”

He turned and trudged back towards the waiting robots. “You’re all I’ve got left in this world!”

The RB unit squeaked and hooted.

“Master Fluke,” said CIBC, “does this mean there will be no tea or crumpets this afternoon?”

“Guess not, Goldie,” said Flyswatter. “How the hell do you eat, anyway? Your mouth doesn’t even move.”

“I manage.”

RBC chittered, whooped and whistled.

“He says he needs to see a man about a horse,” explained CIBC.

“We don’t have any horses around here. Maybe in the City of Fools…”

“He says the man he must see is Opie Wan Toucan Sam Can.”

“I don’t know of any such man but I wonder if he might be related to old Ben Kablooey?”

RBC whirred, bleeped and twittered.

“RB says yes, he probably is.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” said Fluke. “He’s an old Hermit who lives in a cave and he’s never had any children so - I figured he must have a lot of relatives.”

RBC buzzed and warbled.

“RB says we should go to the hermit cave at once.”

“We might as well,” said Fluke. “I’ve got nothing better to do. I torched my legal guardians. I suppose the authorities will be after me soon enough.”


“Hello?” called Fluke. “Old Ben?”

“Hello young Fluke Flyswatter,” said old Ben as he emerged from his cave hole in his long tweed robe. “Come inside before the sand men get you. They’re always on the prowl for young blonde boys and mechanical steampunks.”

Inside Kablooey’s hobbit hole the old man mixed them drinks and whipped up a crumpet for CIBC which he placed in his space oven to bake. RBC rolled over to the man and popped open his little hatch. He whistled and burped.

“What’s this?” said Old Ben.

“It is crack cocaine,” said CIBC. “It is a gift from Princess Louise for the Opie Wan Can Man.”

“Opie Wan,” said the man. “I have not been called that name for many an age.”

“That’s you?” said Fluke.

“It is indeed. Would you like some crack?”


“It looks like good shit,” said Opie Wan. “I’ll sprinkle some on your gay friend’s crumpet.”

“Thank you,” said CIBC. “There is also a message for you from the princess. Just hit the play button.”

Ben located the play button on RBC’s cylindrical body and pressed it. A holographic image of Princess Louise burst out of the robot but it went all fritzy and all that they could make out were the words “You’re our only hope. Did I say that already?”

“What happened to the rest of this message?” asked Ben.

“He’s damaged,” said CIBC. “We had a hard landing.”

“This is very disturbing,” said Old Ben. “I must go see my old associate in the Dego Blah system. You should come too, young Flyswatter. You can train to be a Jade Eye warrior just like your father.”

“You knew my father?”

“I did. He was a good man and a fine Jade Eye Knight. Until he was dispatched by the Dark Gaydar.”

“I will come with you. I wish to avenge my father.”

“Okay. Let’s have some more crack first. And then we’ll go to the City of Fools and find a fool to transport us.”


“Send this idiot pin cushion back to the lab!!” cried Sgt. Goosestep. It doesn’t work!” Stormpoopers removed the beneedled helmet from Princess Louise’s head and took it away. Louise lay slumped in her cell bench, stunned. “Bring her to Governor Muffin!”

MEANWHILE IN THE CITY OF FOOLS… Fluke paused his floatie sand boat at the military check point where junior stormpoopers known as light rainpoopers looked over the vehicle taking special interest in the pair of robots in the rumble seat.

“I think these might be the robots we’re looking for,” said light rainpooper Bob.

“How do we know for sure?” asked LRP Biff.

“We check their serial numbers,” said Bob.

“I don’t think these are the robots we’re looking for,” said old Ben with a mysterious little wave of his hand.”

“No one asked you, old man,” said LRP Bob.

“These are not the robots…” said old Ben, gently waving his fingers in the air, “We’re looking for…”

“Well I guess not,” said Bob. “They’re in your damn back seat. You wouldn’t have to look very far now, would you?”

“No no no,” said Ben. “These are not the robots that YOU’RE looking for.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think we’re looking for robots at all?”

“Oh, you’re not?”

“That’s right. We’re not. So mind your own business.”

“Okay then. Have a nice day,” said Ben.

“Now just you wait a minute old man!” barked Bob. “Maybe we are looking for robots and maybe we aren’t! We don’t have to answer to you!”

Ben waved his hand again. “These are not…”

We ask the questions!”

“...the robots we’re looking for…”

“Where’d you get these robots anyway?”

“These are not…”

“I asked you a question!”

“...the robots we’re looking for…”

“Oh shut up!”

They stared at each other silently for a long moment.

“Repeat after me,” said Ben.

“Look, I’m going to ask you for the last time…”


“... where did you get…”

“...are not…”

“... these robots from!”

“... the robots...”

“Answer me!”

“... we’re looking for.”



“I swear to god I will shoot you in the balls, old man!”


“Right,” said light rainpooper Bob. “I warned you.” Bob raised his blaster and pointed it at old Ben’s crotch.




(To be continued tomorrow… if you can stand it…)

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